Circle of Death
by Beaubier
Summary: Iceman, Nightcrawler, Archangel, Husk, Northstar, and Havok all need a break from the Chuck Austen induced drama. A drinking game ensues! Strong language, and lots of alcohol, be warned.
1. Mopey XMen

TITLE: Circle of Death  
AUTHOR: Beaubier  
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: xbeaubier@hotmail.com  
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Are you serious?  
CATEGORY: Humor, general screwing off  
RATINGS/WARNINGS: R for language, heavy on the alcohol, mild adult innuendo.  
SUMMARY: Bobby's feeling grouchy, Kurt is trying to lighten him up. Some of the X-team stop by and end up playing a classic drinking game. Iceman, Nightcrawler, Archangel, Husk, Northstar, and Havok all need a break from the Chuck Austen induced drama.  
DISCLAIMER: Characters are clearly not mine. Don't complain if you don't like my Circle of Death rules. Everyone plays it differently, this is just the way I do it.  
NOTES: Yes, I was bored. I don't normally like to play cards, but I do like the occasional drinking game. The idea of the Uncanny crew on their day off sitting around playing an old college favorite made me laugh, so I scribbled it down. Mild ooc stuff here, as I really can't imagine that some of them would be talked into such a thing, but hell, it's fun anyhow. I suppose it takes place rather recently, before The Draco storyline in Uncanny, since I'm using the characters who were around for that, mostly. 

**Circle of Death Rules**

2 - Give 2  
3 - Give 3   
4 – Give 4  
5 – Give 5  
6 – Give 6  
7 - Give 7   
8 - Never have I ever…  
9 - Make a rule  
10- Smack your head  
J – Rhyme   
Q - Question  
K – Lose an article of clothing  
A – Waterfall

Part One: Mopey X-Men

            Kurt was getting tired of seeing Bobby like this. The younger man sat, listless, in the living room, TV blaring, looking straight through it, while the team leader leaned in the hallway, shaking his head. He looked so sickly, in the glow of that horrible mind-stealing contraption. He'd tried to lure him into small talk, conversation about the Mansion, the missions, what was going on. To no avail. 

            The boy (he hated to think of him like that, Bobby was a grown man, after all) was usually so animated. Or he had been, once upon a time. That was what killed the fuzzy elf about the whole thing. He just needed to relax, most likely. To forget his worries, and be himself for a bit. Be the old, honest, Iceman.

            And where to go for bottled honesty…? 

            _In Vino Veritas_, Kurt smiled to himself.

            The smell of sulfur drifted to him, and he shook his head. Why couldn't people just leave him in peace to watch some… whatever the hell it was he was "watching" at the moment? Did he _ask to be bothered? No. All he wanted was to sit here and watch some goddamn TV. Difficult with a fuzzy blue demon bamfing around all the time._

            So what if he was pouting? Being immature? Did he have to be in a good mood all the damn time? He had things on his mind…

            BAMF! "_Guten Abend, Herr Drake!" _

            "Think of the Devil, and he appears," Bobby muttered, in no mood for whatever game it was Nightcrawler wanted to play with him. He pointedly refused to look at him and sniffed disdainfully at the acidic residue of whatever godforsaken dimension the man teleported through.

            "Ach, not the Devil. Just your friendly neighborhood wall-crawler."

            Without meaning to, Bobby looked over at him, "Thought that was Spider-Man."

            Nightcrawler shrugged, holding out a beer in one of his three-fingered hands, "Just making sure you were listening."

            For a moment, the Iceman looked from the glowing yellow eyes of his teammate down to the bottle of beer, pre-opened. Heineken. He liked Heineken. So… what the hell. He was miserable enough, wasn't he? He swiped it with a grunted, "Thanks," and immediately took a big gulp of the crisp,  bitter stuff. 

            Kurt smiled at him, "There, don't you feel better already?"

            Bobby just looked at the man before him a moment, the face of a swashbuckler covered in blue fuzz, smiling with those frightening fangs. He looked a bit like the wolf waiting for little red riding hood. And he almost smiled back, at the thought. "I guess."

            "Don't worry," his friend assured him, "I don't plan on dragging you into some deep, spiritual conversation. You just looked like you could use a drink."

            "Apparently, you're right," he agreed, turning back to the blaring television.

            "What's on?"

            He looked at it a moment longer, strained to remember what this horrible movie was… and simply hit the off button on the remote, "You know, I haven't the slightest idea Kurt."

            The demon laughed, and Bobby found himself starting to laugh with him. 

            Paige Guthrie was grinning from ear to ear when she walked into the house, Warren at her side. It had just been a little walk. A little light conversation. Nothing earth-shattering or dramatic. 

            But good god, she felt like a twelve-year-old when she was this close to him. 

            It took all her self control to keep the grin under wraps, so that it simply looked like a calm smile. To keep the bounce out of her step, or the flutter out of her voice. So long. So long and he _finally_ seemed to understand…

            "Let's see what's on TV tonight," He offered, in that commanding, low voice he had. 

            She tried not to giggle. Don't be foolish, Paige. You're a grown woman, you've pursued, and been pursued by many men. Just calm yourself. "Alright," was all she said. 

            When they reached the TV room, however, the thing was off and Bobby and Kurt sat on the couch, Kurt talking animatedly about some adventure or other, Bobby actually half-smiling for the first time in what felt like months to Paige.

            "How goes?" Warren intoned, by way of greeting.

            They both looked over at the intruders, and Kurt's face lit up, yellow eyes flashing. "Oh! Warren, Paige! Get yourselves a beer and come sit with us, we are just telling old war stories."

            "Male bonding at the X-Mansion huh?" Archangel seemed highly amused by the idea, running a hand self-consciously through his thick mop of golden hair.

            "That's why we need you, so Paige will hang out with us," Bobby nodded, a hint of the old prankster returning to him momentarily.

            It sounded like a good idea to her. And anyhow, she'd been wanting to see how Warren would act after a few beers loosened him up. "I'm in," she threw in, moving to occupy the loveseat.

            Warren shrugged, "I'll bring you a beer," and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. 

            Jean-Paul was NOT pleased with the exams. 

            He flipped off the light over his desk in irritation, and decided to take a break from grading these dismal blue-books. Nothing to make you feel like a failure more than your students being unable to grasp fundamental concepts. Supply and Demand. _Dieu, what was so difficult about Supply and Demand?_

            He closed the door behind him, not bothering to lock it, and headed downstairs, fully intending to go outside for a breath of fresh air. He'd been feeling restless lately. And it was no wonder. So many things, fighting for his attention. Classes. Being an X-Man. This full-time superhero gig, he wasn't quite used to it again. And then there was all the frustration…

            "Yo, JP!" 

            Surprised out of his reverie at the bottom of the stairs, he looked to his left to see Bobby's head sticking out of the doorway to the living room. And not so far under, his disembodied hand holding a green bottle. 

            His stomach tightened marginally, but he forced that away from his mind.

            "Hey, we're bonding in here. Like to join?"

            Northstar was mildly taken back. Bobby had been quiet lately, hardly a party-boy. And grouchy. Not that he minded, of course, he was rather a grouch himself if he admitted to it… "No, thank you. I'm not in the best of moods tonight."

            "Neither am I," Bobby now came into the archway and leaned on the frame, holding one hand, with a full bottle, out to him, and taking a swig from the other one, "that's why we're bonding. Come on, man, don't act like you're too cool for us."

            Rolling his eyes, but somehow pleased inside, he moved to the doorway and accepted the bottle, seeing Warren and Kurt sitting on two of the couches, watching Paige act out some sort of conversation with a charming measure of animation. 

            Bobby nodded at him and returned to his seat next to Kurt. 

            Jean-Paul followed, sitting next to him, and wondered how long it would take before he would regret this.

            Warren was amused, watching Paige impersonate the Professor rather successfully. Something about her made him forget. Forget all the… well, baggage. He had to admit, he had quite a bit of it. He was young, sure, but already his life was full of tragedy, heartbreak, and yes, it was true, also astounding success. He supposed it came with the whole superhero thing though. And the Billion dollar heir thing as well. 

            Not that he would complain.

            Well, not today anyhow. 

            "Wait! I have an idea," Paige suddenly stopped her act, and stood thoughtfully, one hand on her hip. She was lovely when she didn't pay attention, when she thought no one was looking. Sweet faced, intelligent, thoughtful. "Let's play a drinking game."

            Jean-Paul was the first to protest, naturally. The man had a stick so far up his Canadian ass, Warren wondered how he managed to walk properly. And people had thought _he_ was stuffy? "I don't know, aren't we a bit… old for that kind of nonsense?"

            "Yeah," she agreed with him, but maybe that's why we should do it. Look at you mopey bastards. Lemme guess, Northstar. You've been grading exams all night?"

            One dark eyebrow arched on his pale forehead, and he nodded his admission.

            "And Bobby, you're sitting here being a grouch right?"

            Kurt nodded for him, and Bobby shot him a look. Warren was surprised it didn't frost the man's fur. 

            "Kurt, you're always game for a beer, I mean, you're German."

            "_Ja_, good point _liebchen_." 

            "Warren, you said yourself you didn't have any plans for the night."

            He was at a loss. Not that he was entirely against her idea, but it was rather… irresponsible. Still… it couldn't hurt. "Well, I suppose we don't have a mission coming up tomorrow. We have the day off."

            Bobby looked at him, amazed, "You're kidding? You're gonna do this?"

            He shrugged, "Like she said, why not?"

            His old friend looked from him to Paige a few times, then shook his head, "Ok, ok."

            "I'd think it'd be more like you to suggest such a thing, in fact, frosty," he couldn't resist throwing at him.

            Bobby only shrugged, "I suppose that's true."

            Paige looked at Jean-Paul now, expectantly. Sharp blue eyes looked around, clearly searching for an exit. And finally he looked back to her. "I suppose it won't kill me."

            "Great!" She clapped her hands together once, like a schoolteacher about to begin class. "Now, let me go get my cards, and… who else should we ask?"

            "Not Cain…," Bobby suggested. 

            Everyone groaned in consent.

            "Alex," Husk suggested, flipping her shining hair a bit, and heading out of the room. "He's mopey too. I'll bring him back with me."

            He watched her go, appreciatively, then caught Bobby staring at him, one eyebrow raised accusingly.

            "What?!"

            Alex Summers was not in a good mood either. In fact, he was downright brain-fried. The emotional stress of this whole mess with Lorna… a mess he still didn't quite understand. And Annie… and Carter. Not to mention the stress of being a superhero in general. He'd been doing it for a long time, sure, but it had sure as hell had its ups and downs. And right now… well at least he wasn't in a coma anymore…

            He tried to pay attention while Paige explained the rules of her game to the reluctant audience. He looked around at the faces of his teammates, Amused to see that only Nightcrawler, their fearless leader, looked like he was actually looking forward to this. Warren seemed oddly indifferent, just looking at Paige with a kind of stupid grin on his face, obviously about to be lovestruck once again, if he wasn't already. Northstar and Iceman just looked… irritated. This was nothing new for Northstar, of course. Or for Iceman, anymore. There was a time, when all of this would've been _his idea instead of Paige's. _

            For his own part, he was secretly looking forward to it. No Lorna. No Annie. Just hanging out with his friends. No bad guys to defeat, no mission to accomplish. Just… some beer. 

            He figured he had earned it.

            "Ok, I'll go first," Husk told them, after her patient explanation of each card and what it meant they had to do. The only important one, he told himself, was ten. If he saw a ten, he had to slap the table, then his own forehead, fast. Last one to do it had to drink. Anything else, he could handle being reminded of without losing utterly.

            Not that it was possible to win this game. It appeared to be a bit of a deathtrap.

            Havok had seen enough of those in his lifetime to recognize them.

            She put her hand over the pile of cards in the center of the table, and chose one at random. "A three," she announced, showing it to them. "Which means, I get to give out three drinks to whomever I choose…" She began to look around the table almost menacingly, and finally, settled on Iceman. "Bobby, take three drinks."

            He wrinkled up his nose at her, remind Alex very much of the Bobby of a few years ago. The merry prankster. "Why me?"

            "Because you had the sourest face on. Now drink."

            Alex found himself laughing. Well, it would be interesting, if nothing else.


	2. The Buzz

Part Two: The Buzz

            Warren looked at his card, puzzled. Kurt shook his head in amusement, swished his tail. If the game was this complicated for them when they were all on their first beers, how would they ever manage to make it through an entire deck of cards?

            Paige leaned over and whispered something in his ear, obviously cluing him in as to the significance of his card, and Alex pointed an accusatory finger at them, "No cheating, pal."

            "You can't _cheat at circle of death, Alex," Bobby grumbled._

            But before Havok had a chance to retort, Warren slapped his hand down on the table with a crack, and then slapped himself on the forehead. 

            Laughing at the spectacle, but seeing the card he laid down was the ten of clubs, he followed the winged man's lead, in synch with Alex, seated on the other side of Jean-Paul, and Paige, on the other side of Warren. Belatedly, Bobby did the same.

            Jean-Paul just looked at them all. "You _can't_ be serious," he sighed, with enough dryness that Nightcrawler almost felt he was back in England. 

            "You're the slowest!" Paige shrugged.

            Nightcrawler patted his Canadian teammate on the back, "There's a first, speedy! Drink up!"

            Still making a face like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, Northstar did as he was told.

            Kurt reached into the center of the pile now, seeing that it was his turn to choose, and pulled out the queen of spades.

            "Question game!" Paige announced.

            He thought for a moment. "Is this going to give me a hangover?"

            Apparently on the ball after the previous hand's failure, Jean-Paul let fly, "Doesn't the fuzzy blue gene protect you from hangovers?"

            "Does being a sarcastic Canadian protect you from hangovers?" Alex raised his eyebrows at his teammate.

            "Doesn't Canada have a government program to provide for the victims of hangovers?" Bobby mused.

            "I had a hangover… oh… shit," Paige started laughing.

            "Well that didn't last long," Warren chuckled, as Paige took her drink. 

            "Thank god," Northstar muttered.

            Kurt figured Paige had lost that round because she had started a statement, not a question. Not a hard game. In fact, he hadn't had nearly enough to drink since it had begun. Shrugging, he lifted his bottle to his lips and took a nice sized gulp, just for good measure. He'd need a new one soon, but that's what teleporting was for, after all.

            Bobby watched JP reach for a card, and saw him smile.

            This of course, immediately concerned him. After the Canadian jokes, he could only imagine what kind of pain the man would want to inflict on them all, and what kind of card would give him the power to do so.

            Still, he was having more fun than he let on. It kinda felt like the old days, the gang hanging out, talking trash, having a few beers. Sure, this was a little more forced, this crew wasn't nearly as close…

            He tried not to think about it. 

            "Ace of spades," Northstar announced, holding up his bottle already. "I believe that's a waterfall."

            "Go easy on us, tiger," Alex chuckled, readying his own bottle.

            "Wait!" Kurt exclaimed, "I'm nearly out. Let me go get some more." And he bamfed out without waiting for an answer.

            Warren waved his hand rather prissily over the empty seat Kurt had occupied, wrinkling his nose at the sulfur smell, and Bobby had to laugh. At least Warren was still here, after all. One of the first. Like him. And these guys weren't so bad really…

            Kurt was back in no time, and everyone had a standby beer opened and ready before Jean-Paul lifted his Heineken to his lips and started to drink. Everyone did it simultaneously, of course. No one could stop until he did, and then Alex could, whenever he wanted, which would free Bobby to, and so on around the table. 

            Eventually, Bobby was ready to stop drinking. He looked over at Northstar, saw his Adam's apple moving up and down steadily, his beer draining rather quickly, and had a moment of appreciation. He never woulda figured the guy for a beer-drinker. Seemed like more of a cocktails kind of man. Manhattans and Martinis and what have you. 

            A sort of strangled noise was starting to come from Paige, and Alex was flipping his hand around in a "come on, come on," sort of gesture. Northstar, oblivious, and seemingly determined to drain his entire bottle, kept drinking.

            Good god, how did he do it? Bobby started swallowing only every so often. Kurt had polished his beer off and was now on the second, and he was getting close…

            Paige stood up, inched her way around Kurt, and smacked Jean-Paul on the arm hard.

            He took one last gulp, lowered his bottle finally, one drink left in it, and glared at her. 

            Alex put his down immediately, taking a heavy breath and looking like he was about to explode, and Bobby wasted no time in putting his down so Paige wouldn't start beating on him too.

            Alright, so the Canuck could drink. Didn't mean he could stay in for the long run. 

            This was war, of course.

            The mutant called Husk was well pleased with herself. Each of these mopey motherfuckers had smiled at least once since he'd sat down at the table. Christ, they all had baggage. Why couldn't these boys just get over themselves?

            And of course, after that horrible waterfall, they'd probably now have to turn the whole thing into a cock swinging contest. Count on Northstar to bet he one to start it.

            But at least they were having fun. 

            Of course, as she thought this to herself, she saw Alex draw a six, and look directly at her. "Oh no… not after that…," she pleaded.

            He cocked his head, displacing a few chunks of blonde hair charmingly. "Alright. Take three, Paige. Since it's your game. Jean-Paul, you take the other three."

            "Me?" He pretended to be shocked.

            Alex pointed to the beer, "After that, I ought to give them all to you. Drink, you fucker."

            Surprisingly, Northstar only laughed, and did as he was told, and Paige drank in unison with him. They started on their new beers at the same time, despite the fact that she had started drinking before him. 

            Grading those papers must really be getting to him, she thought.

            Bobby reached out now, and grabbed a card quickly. "A king. What's that mean?"

            Ah, just the card she'd been waiting for! "Means you have to get naked."

            He raised an eyebrow, "No way."

            "C'mon Drake. Just pick something and take it off," she encouraged him, now even more glad she'd suggested this game, and kept that rule in. It was mostly for her benefit, of course, considering that they were all men. But hell, if they didn't like it, they shouldn't have agreed. "And no socks or jewelry. Like pants or shirt."

            He sighed, stood up, and undid his pants, then dropped them to the floor and stepped out of them, showing all of them his Joe Boxers. Complete with smiley face print. "Happy?"

            Nice legs, she thought, grinning. Now if only we could work it out so that he got the next king… "Yes," was all she said. 

            He sat back down and tried to look pouty, but winked at her when everyone else had looked away, laughing at his show. And his smiley faces.

            She winked back and announced, "My turn!" Then pulled a card from the mass. "Oooh, a nine! I get to make a rule!"

            There was a sort of collective groan from the men, and she shook her head at them. "Oh you babies. Ok, here it is. The next person who has to take something off, has to take off whatever I tell them."

            Warren raised his eyebrows at her, "oh yeah?"

            She smiled back, sweetly "That's right."

            One way or another, she'd get him out of those clothes.

            Jean-Paul watched them with growing amusement, Paige and Warren. It had been obvious for awhile that she was well into him, but Warren's recent behavior patterns were reading that he felt much the same. Of course, it always happened like that. Teammates. You work together all the time, someone's bound to have a crush…

            He purposely watched Warren now as he drew a card. Mainly to avoid looking over at Bobby. He'd caught him winking at Paige after he'd removed his jeans, and quickly looked away then too. Normally, he would've had no problem giving him "the look." The one he knew could melt a man at 100 yards. But this one was… different. This one was… not going to be interested.

            He hoped for another waterfall. He was definitely going to need to drink more.

            "A five," Archangel announced. "And they go to… Paige!"

            Her eyes grew wide, "You trying to kill me?" 

            He shrugged, "your game."

            She shot a mock-evil look all around, "it's a conspiracy."

            He noticed a touch of her carefully suppressed Kentucky accent coming back, and wondered if that happened when she drank. He'd never heard it before, really. But she knocked back the five drinks all the same, and Kurt drew a card of his own.

            "Seven. That's five to the man with the wings, for the sake of avenging the lady—" He intoned in his thick German accent.

            "And they say chivalry is dead!" Paige beamed.

            "And two to Herr Drake," he finished, nodding to her.

            Bobby sat up straighter, "Why me?"

            Kurt shrugged, and Northstar was amazed at how playful such a demonic man could actually look. "I imagined you'd need a little more, to be comfortable sitting in your undergarments in the living room."

            Bobby raised his glass, as Warren drank up, "Cheers, mate."

            Nightcrawler grinned back at him.

            And now it was his turn. Quickly, he picked up the nearest card and laid it on the table. "Jack. That's… pick a topic right?"

            Paige nodded at him.

            He thought for a moment. Something utterly obscure… "Spanish Painters. Picasso." 

            Alex made a horrible face at him, but blurted out, "Velasquez."

            Jean-Paul nodded, impressed. 

            Bobby squirmed a moment, but just when he opened his mouth to call him out, he finally exclaimed, "Diego Rivera!"

            Very impressive.

            Paige looked panicked now, "shit, you took mine! Uhhh… Goya!"

            He nodded again. They were doing better than he'd thought possible. 

            "El Greco," Warren shrugged, not even sweating. The man probably owned three of them himself, after all.

            "Wait, wait, wait!" Bobby interrupted, before Kurt could even open his mouth. "El Greco? _The Greek? No way, you can't use him!"_

            Warren puffed out his chest a bit, making his presence all the more impressive. "Don't tell me about art, kid. He painted in the Spanish style, in Spain."

            Bobby was unimpressed, "So, Picasso painted in France, big fucking deal."

            "He's right, Bobby," Kurt spoke up, "El Greco is a Spanish painter."

            The temperature in the room started to drop a little, as Bobby now looked to Jean-Paul for help. 

            Though he was tempted, he could not lie. He held up his hands, "Sorry _mon ami,_ they're right."

            "Oh fuck…" Iceman gave up, shaking his head, and took a drink.

            Jean-Paul pretended not to watch him some more.

            Warren was surprised. This was actually quite fun.

            Bobby was lightening up, despite his lack of art historical knowledge, Jean-Paul was taking a break from the _Quebecois snot-nose act (well, enough to relax and at least talk to them, anyhow,) Paige was looking stunning, running the game with that beautiful, youthful energy he loved in her so well, Alex had cracked more than a few smiles over the course of the game thus far, and Kurt seemed happy just to have some of them together for something other than a briefing or mission. _

            It wasn't like the old days, of course. But it wasn't all bad, really.

            He watched with something like childish anticipation, though he knew it wouldn't show on his rock hard face, as Alex drew a card. "An eight…" He seemed to have forgotten what that meant.

            "Never have I ever," Paige prompted.

            "Oh right," he nodded, looking up in the air and cradling his second beer. "Never have I ever… checked out my own ass in the mirror when I put on my spandex."

            Jean-Paul's eyebrows both shot up this time. "So we drink if we have… or if we have not?"

            "If you have," she nodded to him, grinning.

            He held her gaze fearlessly as he took a long drink.

            Warren found himself laughing at the Canadian's vanity, and had to admit that he'd done it himself. Aw what the hell, they were among friends. He took a drink himself, and watched as everyone else at the table did, except for Nightcrawler and Husk.

            "Ok Kurt, you I can _almost believe don't check yourself out. But Paige? Come on… hell, I know I check you out all the time," Bobby laughed, sounding much more like his old self than he had in ages. _

            It actually made Warren smile to hear it, really.

            "You boys are so vain!" She laughed, "I really don't check myself out in the mirror."

            "Why can you believe it of me?!" Kurt demanded. "You think just because a man has a tail, he doesn't look good in spandex?"

            "I think you look great in spandex," Warren heard himself say.

            Good god. Where did that come from? 

            He took another drink, just for good measure.

            Alex was laughing now, rather astounded at Archangel's little joke. How long had they been drinking before he'd come downstairs?

            Of course, he'd purposely asked a loaded question, just to see who would admit to something he knew all superheroes had to do. He figured Iceman, Northstar, and Nightcrawler would be honest about it, mainly because Iceman would get a kick out of it, and Northstar was obviously a vain son of a bitch. But Warren's reaction had been alright.

            He suddenly had a flash of his brother walking into the room, that glare that you _knew was just evil, even behind the ruby red sunglasses. He could hear him now. Just what do you think you're doing? Playing drinking games like a bunch of kids! How irresponsible can you possibly get. Alex, I thought you'd at least know better than this! And you Warren, Kurt, you're senior team members! Leaders!_

            Silently, he told the Scott in his head to shut the fuck up and let them play.

            Bobby pulled a card out now, a four, and pointed it directly at Northstar. "You, mon ami," he put on a French accent just for that little phrase, "can take four! For picking a stupid fucking topic like Spanish Painters."

            Jean-Paul almost seemed pleased with the arrangement as he bowed his dark head and took his four drinks. 

            He was being a much better sport about this than Alex had expected. Pretentious till the end… but he did seem to have a sense of humor piled under the massive chip on his shoulder. And hell, even Bobby was grinning now. Maybe all they really needed was a break. From the drama. 

            Paige was grinning ear to ear as she reached for  her card. 

            Hell, it was nice to see them all smile. 

            "Oooh, another nine!" She announced gleefully.

            Well shit. 


	3. Ha Ha High Babe

Part Three: Ha-ha-high Babe…

            Bobby got up to put on some music as Paige mulled over her important decision. Kurt bamfed out of the scene quickly, to grab another round or two, and when he reappeared she seemed ready to reveal her plan to them. The music on the stereo was quiet, but it had a sort of grinding rock feel that made him feel like he was in a smoky bar somewhere, cramped and dark. Not here in the television room of the X-Mansion.

            "Ok, the new rule is, we all have to be called by new nicknames. Not our code names, either, but new ones that we shall now decide on. Anyone who uses other names, has to drink."

            They all just stared at her for a moment. 

            She smiled, turning to Warren, "let's start with you, darlin'," She suggested, with more than a hint of Kentucky back in her speech. She reached out and brushed one of his wings rather seductively, Kurt could feel Warren stiffen his back a bit beside him, and then said, "Pretty Bird!"

            Warren shook his head, "Oh god, no Paige…"

            "Come on, it's just for fun."

            "I like it," Bobby nodded, from across the table, rocking his chair back on two legs and hugging his beer, looking completely comfortable in his boxers now. "don't you like it Kurt?"

            He nodded, "_Ja, it's fitting."_

            Havok and Northstar nodded their agreement, and Warren looked crestfallen. "Ah Jesus."

            Kurt wondered if he shouldn't have stood up for his friend, however, when Paige turned her glance to the next person at the table. Him. "Sir Bamfsalot."

            She had caught Northstar with a mouthful of beer, and the elf-eared mutant was obviously fighting hard not to spray it across the table at that. Bobby simply nodded again, "Oh yeah, definitely. Suits you, Kurt."

            He shook his head, dejected, "As you wish, milady."

            Northstar, recently recovered from the indignation of having to fight his beer for control of his mouth, cocked his head at her, knowing he would come next. 

            "Prince Charming," she pronounced, half serious, half mocking. 

            He smiled, "I'm honored." Kurt got the distinct feeling he knew the nickname was half because of how handsome he was, and half a bit of sarcasm playing off his unwillingness to be at all "charming" most of the time.

            Next up was Alex. She looked at him for just a moment. "Cherry Bomb."

            "Wha-?" he screwed up his all-American football star face at her, "Cherry Bomb?"

            She nodded. "Yeah when you do your thing, it always makes me think of that 70s song. Hello daddy, hello mom, I'm a ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!"

            Kurt laughed out loud at her performance, and pointed a blue finger at Havok, "Not bad, nein?"

            He only shook his head and grinned, "Whatever she says. Someone else get a nine fast and nullify this bullshit."

            Paige shot him a mean look and then turned her attention to Bobby. "And for you…"

            He sat his chair back on all four legs now and smiled sweetly at her, "I know. Sexy Motherfucker. I know…"

            "Sour Puss," she nodded.

            The look of sheer indignation on his face was, Kurt had to admit, priceless. "What?! Speedbump over there is Prince Charming and I'm Sour Puss?!"

            "Stop looking so goddamn mopey all the time and we'll talk," she said, brusquely.

            Before Northstar could protest being called "Speedbump," Warren picked up his own card and announced, "Ten! Waterfall!"

            Bobby had to admit, he was feeling far more relaxed. He had the latest Black Rebel Motorcycle Club on the stereo, his teammates were being… well, team-ish, and he wasn't thinking about… it. 

            Or, he hadn't been till just now. 

            Anyhow, He thought Paige's nicknames were pretty clever, even if they made little sense.

            Warren lifted his bottle to his lips, and they all did the same, in unison, on their third bottles and buzzing because they'd done it so fast, for the most part. Not like they drank a lot. Training, exercise, teaching, missions… everyone here had too much to think about to do this very often. They were probably all cheap drunks. 

            After a decent amount of time, Warren put down the bottle. Kurt continued for a second or so, then set his down. 

            Jean-Paul. Goddamn French Canadian son of a bitch. He kept drinking, again with the huge gulps, until Paige started making threatening noises at him again. He stopped, finally, grinning, and Alex immediately put down his own bottle, another deep breath, a mean look at Northstar. Bobby put his down as well, though he had stopped really swallowing a few seconds before, so Paige wouldn't assault him. When she was finally allowed to drop her bottle, she glared at him. "Prince Charming, I'm about to kick your ass."

            He only smiled at her. An infuriating sort of smile, rather smug. "You know, we never did give you a nickname."

            Inspiration hit him, "Kentucky Fried!" Bobby jumped out of his chair in his boxers, holding one finger aloft like a great orator.

            "Oh yeah," Alex was sort of… yeah, he was giggling, "that's classic. I love it. Alright Kentucky Fried, stop complaining. If you can't run with the big dogs, get under the porch!"

            Bobby re-seated himself and gave Husk a friendly pat on the shoulder as he did so, "Nice huh?"

            She tried to glare, but ended up laughing.

            Phew, that last waterfall had really knocked him for a loop.

            Paige was feeling a bit dizzy, shed been drinking so fast. Normally, she could do a sixer without feeling too much. Course, that'd been a few years ago. She hadn't drank this quickly in… oh god. Years. 

            Warren. God, he was amazing. Square jaw, piercing eyes, that low sexy voice. He'd been so kind to her. Helped her so much. She caught his eye and he beamed a smile at her. It lit up his heroic face, so she knew it was real. Genuine. 

            "Well, what do you know!" She was suddenly torn from her reverie by the sound of Iceman's voice, devilish and amused. 

            Kurt was covering his face, his card in front of him. A king. 

            She began laughing. Oh god, that was the best rule ever. "Shirt off, Sir Bamfsalot."

            He shook his head once, and then the former priest pulled his shirt over his head.   Mmmmm. Gorgeous… but fuzzy. 

            Probably felt like velvet, she thought, before she could stop herself.

            Ok. Now she was being a magpie. Easily distracted. See something shiny, want it for her nest. Her mother used to call her that sometimes, when she'd get like this. Of course, if her mother were in a room with a couple of half naked X-Men, she'd probably be distracted too, she reasoned, silently.

            Jean-Paul also seemed to admire the view quickly, though in a much less obvious way than she, before reaching out and taking his own card. "Ah," he smiled, "a six."

            Nightcrawler, beside him, crossed his arms over his chest.

            "Cold?" Northstar asked him, seemingly very concerned.

            "A little," he admitted, shrugging.

            "Great, have six drinks then, it'll warm you up."

            Feeling very proud of himself, Jean-Paul watched Alex reach out and take a card of his own. He looked at it for a moment, then peered over the top of it, eyes going from side to side quickly. As if he were hiding something.

            All at once, he dropped the card, a ten of hearts, slammed his palm into the table, then hit himself in the head.

            Oh Jesus, Northstar thought, not this again. Certainly, it was good to relax now and then. But some things he just refused to do. Even if his head was pleasantly fuzzy.

            Each of the others did it in turn, Bobby getting perhaps a little too overzealous and letting out a small, irritated, "Ow…" With it. 

            And they all turned to look at him.

            "Not a chance," he muttered, as he picked up the bottle and took it like a man. 

            "How's that stick feel up there, JP?" Bobby elbowed Alex and the two men grinned at him.

            "Wouldn't you love to know, Drake?" He inquired, conversationally.

            Bobby's pink lips formed a small "o" and he shook his head, "Oh, that's cold."

            "Drink, Prince Charming," Kurt said from beside him.

            He turned to look at the team leader, "I did."

            "You didn't call him Sour Puss."

            "Merde…," he swore, sucking down another drink. 

            "You too Sour Puss," Nightcrawler said, almost singsonging it. He was enjoying this immensely, it was clear. Despite the lack of clothing he was forced to endure.

            Northstar could see Iceman thinking, the wheels turning, and then he remembered. He'd called him JP. "Aw shit," he took a drink too.

            That's what I say, Northstar thought.

            He knew he looked like a royal ass. Hell, he felt like one. But the truth of the matter was, he was having fun. For the first time in a long time. He was having fun. Free of the drama… well, almost. Just… almost… letting his guard down a bit?

            No, that wasn't the way to think of it. It'd be back up in a heartbeat if he started that. 

            Next, Bobby reached a hand for a card. "Jack," he announced. He then paused and cocked his head a bit. Charming, really, the way he did that. It wasn't kiddish at all. Thoughtful, though. Intelligent. "Ok… X-teams. Or mutant crime-fighting teams. Or whatever."

            Jean-Paul shook his head a bit. He was staring and he knew it. Not that it mattered, as long as they didn't notice.

            And fuck it anyhow. This was fun.

            "X-men," Bobby gave the obvious answer first.                   

            Warren watched Paige panic slightly, as she'd obviously been hoping to be the one who got to give that answer. Her cheeks were flushed, having started on her fourth beer somehow. She looked radiant, really. "Gen X!" She announced with great ceremony.

            His turn now. "X-Factor," he added, trying not to bring up too many memories with the name. The alcohol helped with that, of course.

            "Excalibur," Nightcrawler drawled from beside him, smiling contentedly and leaning back on his chair just a bit, as Bobby had been before. 

            "Alpha Flight," Northstar threw in, casually.

            Warren caught Bobby's eye and they both tried not to laugh. Alpha Flight. Ha! 

            "X-treme," Alex shrugged, mercifully covering up their muffled chuckles at the mention of the Canadian mutant team.

            "The Morlocks?" Bobby threw out, obviously surprised that it had come back over to him.

            Warren, of course, knew what his next answer would be. Assuming Paige could come up with something…

            "Defenders," she said, turning to look at him, an innocent smile on her pretty face.

            He felt his brow furrow. That had been his answer. "Dammit," he laughed, taking a drink of defeat, a nice long one. "You stole my answer. I figured my partner in crime would have that one."

            "Was leaving you a bone, man," Bobby laughed.

            "Anyhow, I say Jean-Paul loses. I mean, Alpha Flight? That doesn't count!" He could hardly get the sentence out he was laughing so hard by this time.

            Bobby was nearly on the floor, trying not to laugh, and even Kurt and Alex were snickering on either side of the table. 

            The immovable Northstar just shook his head. "Ah, Americans."

            Alex stared at him for a moment, in shock. "That's it? Nothing else about how we wish we were Quebecois, or whatever that big ass word is? Nothing about Canadian superiority?"

            Jean-Paul only shrugged. Rather an elegant movement, Warren noticed. "No. But You know, Pretty Bird, you do have to drink as well."

            Confusion. What was he on about now? "How's that?"

            "You called me Jean-Paul."

            Warren held up his bottle in salute, "touché!"

            A thought occurred to him then. What if Jean-Paul was like that really bad-ass guy in every Kung Fu film? There was always one. Usually a long haired Chinese fellow, who never had to say a word. Didn't need comebacks. Didn't need to prove anything. He just nodded and smiled, like Northstar…

            "Of course…," the dark haired man cocked his head again, "considering that the X-men have recruited a few of us ex- department H-ers… I'd say that would nullify their status… _our status as well. Non?"_

            Or, maybe not. 

            Alex shook his head at the strangely friendly banter between his teammates. Normally, Northstar and Archangel, both usually wound tighter than anyone else he'd ever known (aside from Scott, of course,) would've been at each others' throats by now. Instead they were laughing and drinking. 

            Perhaps they should do this more. 

            He shot Paige a grateful smile, for coming to rescue him from his pathetic sulking in his room. She caught it, and smiled back, wrinkling the corners of her sparkling eyes just a bit. 

            Sweet girl. Good family.

            Now it was her turn to draw. She reached out for a new card, picked it up, and started to laugh. 

            Alex was lost, but he heard the Canuck beside him groan, "Oh, no…"

            She dropped the card, smacked it, and smacked herself in the head. 

            Quickly, in unison with Bobby, Kurt, and Warren, Alex did the same. 

            Jean-Paul just picked up his bottle and took a long drink. After a few minutes of laughter, he simply looked at Warren, "Your turn, Ange." He carefully avoided the use of either of Warren's names.

            Warren made a definite effort to pull a straight face, and grabbed himself a card. He looked so much less stiff when he actually smiled, Alex noticed. He looked like a young football star, a college kid. Not like a superhero who'd carried the weight of the world on his shoulders… on his wings, for years. He wondered if he looked the same. Did they all? 

            He shook the thoughts out of his head. None of that now. 

            "An eight," Archangel told them. "Never have I ever… had to work with a sibling!"

            It took it a minute to register with Alex that he had, on may occasions, worked for (and against) his brother. He raised his bottle with Northstar and Husk, and the others got to sit back and watch. 

            Kurt, who had been silent for a few moments, sitting there grinning happily, nodded his approval. "Nice strategy, Herr Worthington."

            "Drink!" Bobby pointed at the fuzzy elf.

            Kurt smiled, almost as if he'd been asking for it, and took another drink, emptying the bottle. "Ach, refill time already!" And he was gone in a bamf of brimstone.

            "Man… it's so cool when he does that," Alex said aloud. 

            Of course, he hadn't meant to. He felt his face grow hot as his teammates began to look at him. 

            But, surprisingly, Bobby said, "Yeah, I always thought it was the coolest thing. I mean… even the sound."

            Warren was nodding, Jean-Paul raising his eyebrow, and Paige starting to giggle a bit when the elf returned, arms full of alcohol. "Here we go! Who's next? Ohhh.. me."

            And Bobby started to sing a little from beside him, rocking back and forth on his chair, obviously enjoying the music. He even looked a bit like a rock star with his brown hair falling over his face like that. "You're ha-ha-high babe, you can't keep it on the ground, keep it on the ground…"


	4. The Last Round

Part Four: The Last Round

            "Ahhh, a seven," Kurt grinned evilly. "That's what I wanted to see." Pointedly, he looked down at his bare chest. In the middle of winter too! Good thing he had this fuzz… "Husk… why don't you take them all, Liebchen?"

            She narrowed her eyes dangerously, and he only grinned. 

            "Turn about is fair play. That is the saying, nein?" He watched her take seven drinks with great satisfaction. And tried to keep from laughing too much.

            Perhaps it had been rather a long time since he and Wolverine had been on one of their drinking binges. Had he really been so busy that his tolerance had dropped? But it was so nice to sit and listen to them, his team, laughing and joking. He hadn't wanted to speak, afraid that he would ruin it. It was especially nice to see Iceman smiling again. He never quite understood what it was about Bobby, perhaps his tendency to hide behind jokes, that was so endearing. But he didn't know anyone who didn't have something of a soft spot for the guy.

            Through a mild haze, he watched Jean-Paul pick up another card… and look at it. With his face twisted up into a mask of hate. Slowly, the elfin x-man put the card down, hit the table, then raised his hand to his forehead. And smacked himself.

            It was, of course, a ten.

            The look on his face was so severely pained, and so extremely amusing, however, that the others had a difficult time smacking themselves in the forehead before he did. Bobby, in the end, wound up on the ground, tickled nearly to death with the fate of his team mate, and lost that round. 

            Northstar just shook his head, nostrils still slightly flaring, lips pressed thin, until he couldn't help it anymore and a smile broke through. 

            Nightcrawler, still laughing, reached out and thumped him lightly on the back, and received a shake of the head and a smile from the other man. 

            "Oh… oh god… Prince Charming…," Bobby was still giggling as he pulled himself back up to his chair, "Poetic Justice! The likes of which has never been seen before, nor will be again!"

            Bobby calmed himself and prepared for the next card, still wanting to have fits over Northstar's last draw. Oh god, that was brilliant.

            Not that he didn't like the man. He did, honestly, he was a good guy. Hell, he'd saved his ass, that much was for sure. But Bobby had never noticed that underneath all that dry sarcastic bullshit… there was a sense of humor. 

            He could appreciate that.

            Alex, just to his right, drew a card now, and it was a Queen. He was looking pink and happy, giddy like a high school kid. "Questions, I guess," he sounded kind of sleepy even. "Who's ready to quit and go to bed?"

            Bobby felt his brow furrow as he batted Havok on the arm, "Who's being a pansy bitch if he calls it a night right now?""

            "What do we do to pansy bitches?" Paige glared at Alex threateningly.

            "I… aw… well fuck," Warren laughed, totally at a loss.

            And Warren! What a mood he was in! "Aw man, that one didn't get very far!" Bobby chuckled.

            Warren made some sort of gurgling noises and took a drink of his beer. Paige put a hand in his hair and messed it up a bit, smiling over at him, and he smiled back.

            He looked… happy.

            For some reason, it made him sad. 

            He put out a hand to draw a card of his own now, and was delighted enough with the results, or intoxicated enough, to push it aside for a moment. Nothing complicated. "Four! They go to the Cherry Bomb, for being a pansy bitch!"

            Alex gave a little laugh, obviously far from offended, and took his four drinks.

            Paige moved to pick up a card, and did a little happy dance in her seat. "Woohoo! Another nine!" She rejoiced, laying it on the table. 

            Kurt shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest again. "Here we go…"

            "Anyone who says the word "fuck" has to drink!"

            Alex piped up immediately, "what the fuck?!"

            "Drink!" She and Warren chorused.

            Bobby had a feeling this rule was going to be bad for him. He hadn't had that much, but it'd been awfully fast…

            Paige turned expectantly to Warren now, wanting to run her fingers through his hair again, but unwilling to do so in front of everyone. It wasn't that she wanted the game to end. She was having a smashing time here with the boys. 

            But she could see Alex's head starting to droop, and Nightcrawler's tail wasn't swishing nearly as fast as it had been earlier. Perhaps this whole superhero thing really did wear you out. The others looked fine of course, and really this game could go on forever, theoretically. But the drinking had sped up, and she was about to being her fifth in… god couldn't be much over an hour…

            Oh wouldn't Sam be proud of her now.

            "An eight," Warren said brightly. "Never have I ever…" He pretended to be thinking. She didn't know how she knew, but he was pretending. And he looked straight at her. "Had a crush on someone in this room."

            And then, he drank.

            Looking straight at her. 

            She grinned, and took a drink.

            "Holy Christ Warren," Bobby protested, "what is this a fucking sleepover?"

            "Drink!" She insisted, looking over at Bobby, for saying "fuck."

            And noticing that Northstar had been drinking too. She didn't mean to, of course, but she stared at him a moment. Cocked her head. 

            Who the hell did he have a crush on?!

            Pure innocence, he just smiled at her. 

            Alex noticed too, and was staring at him with some measure of confusion on his face, as well as Kurt, who looked highly amused by the whole situation.

            Bobby was shaking his head, after finishing his drink. "Oh god, you bunch of girls. Next!"

            Kurt reached out, still looking amused, and picked up his card. "A nine! And with this nine, I hereby nullify all rules set forth by Kentucky Friend Paige!"

            A cheer went up, and Paige set to pouting. But honestly, she thought it was funny. And her head was fuzzy enough to forget about Jean-Paul's crush, anyhow, when she laughed at the look on Nightcrawler's grinning, handsome face. 

            Quickly, Jean-Paul reached out, took his card, and flipped it over. "A two. Those go to Warren, for his Canadian jokes!"

            Warren laughed and took his drinks as Alex picked his up. "A six! Four to Bobby, for calling me a pansy bitch! And, as a consolation, two to Warren, for proving who the real pansy bitch here tonight is with that last never have I ever!"

            The two men caught each others' eyes, smiled, and drank. And it was nice to see it, really. 

            Jean-Paul groaned as Bobby flipped over his card. It was an Ace. 

            The waterfall destroyed them all, of course. Even he couldn't hold out this time, putting his beer down a few moments after Kurt did just to his right. His stomach felt full, though not sick full. But a few more drinks, and he would be done in. 

            And he was starting to feel sad again. Irritated, mostly. So much work to do. So much frustration. 

            "Well, mes amis, it has been a pleasure drinking with you. But I must go," he stood then, surprised to find his legs a bit shaky, and stepped away from the table, nodding at them a bit. 

            "Alright Northstar?" Alex gripped his arm sappily and smiled up at him.

            He patted the blonde man on the shoulder and smiled. "Yes, thank you. Good night all."

            They muttered their good nights, and started to break up the party, Kurt picking up the bottles and caps with the help of Alex, Bobby standing and reaching for his pants again, Paige and Warren kind of staring at each other like idiots.

            They were cute really. The two of them.

            He turned to go, and instead of turning right at the steps, he made a left and opened the front door. Fresh air would be nice. After all, that's what he'd come down here for, wasn't it?

            "Hey, Jean-Paul." A voice behind him, that made his stomach clench again.

            "Oui?" He asked, without looking. The door was halfway open already. Cold outside. It felt good on his flushed cheeks. 

            "Alright man?"

            This time he turned. "Fine, thank you, Bobby. I came down here, before, to get some fresh air. Thought I'd carry through with the plan before I went to bed." A closer examination. Yes. The tired lines around Bobby's eyes were returning. 

            But he still looked lovely.

            "Are you alright?"

            The younger man nodded, quickly, "Yeah sure. You just left fast is all. Just, you know, makin' sure."

            He just stared for a minute, too fuzzy to think. Too warm. "Drink some water, non? Before bed."

            Bobby nodded, smiling, "Yeah, was just on my way."

            Jean-Paul nodded in return, "Goodnight, then."

            "Night!"

            And he walked out the door, into the cold November night, breathing deeply.

            Warren sighed, warm, fuzzy, and content. "That was fun. Good idea, Paige."

            She smiled at him, suddenly noticing that Alex and Kurt were working around them, trying to clean things up. She jumped to help, even though there wasn't much to be done. This, of course, made Warren notice, and feel like something of a heel. So he tried to make himself useful, putting what few bottles he saw into a bag, turning off the stereo Bobby had left running. 

             "You know," Kurt was saying, "at home, we would never say goodnight. That phrase, it implies some sort of… relationship, nein? You say to some old woman in the grocery store, "Oh, _guten Nacht, Frau Wagner," and she would probably hit you over the head with a loaf of bread."_

            "Why's that?" He heard Paige ask, as he looked for the CD case Bobby had found this thing in. It had no name on it, and he had no idea what the kid was listening to these days.

            Not that he was a kid anymore. Not that he ever really had been, any more than Warren. 

            "We just don't say such things. It implies the bed, I think. Then this _Frau_, she is thinking, why is this young man talking about my bed? It's insulting. You would only say that to your family, to your close friends," Kurt explained, his soft voice going on and on, gently.

            He had the voice to be a priest, Archangel thought. But too much damn integrity to be one.

            The room was cleaned up, everything put away, and Kurt and Alex said their goodnights. And he was left alone with Paige. 

            "I really did have a nice evening," he told her. "All of it."

            She smiled. Young face. Innocent. 

            But she was no child. She'd seen almost as much as he had. Not quite. But she would, before it was all over.

            "Me too, Warren. I'm glad you—"

            He stopped her though, put a hand over her soft, cherry lips. "Shhh. Later. Goodnight for now, Husk. I'll see you tomorrow."

            And she watched as he took her hand in his, and kissed it softly. 

            "Night, Archangel."

            And Warren K. Worthington III went to bed happy.

            Alex Summers really didn't feel too badly anymore. Yeah, things were shitty. Ok, some things were really shitty. Lorna was still… lost. Annie was still… Annie. And he wasn't Scott.

            Well, that last thing, he was pretty much over now. 

            At least, at the moment he was. 

            He managed to grab a glass of water in the kitchen before hauling himself upstairs. He forced himself to undress for bed, knowing he'd feel awful if he woke up in his jeans, and he crawled into bed. 

            Clean sheets, against his skin. A smell like home. Another drink of water. 

            He smiled to himself, in the dark. More to life than drama, after all. Little things.

            And he fell asleep before he knew it.

END


End file.
